Hetalia of Human Sacrifice
by Rhen Nightshade
Summary: There once was a little dream. Nobody knows who dreamt it...'How can I make people dream me?... I will make people come to me, and they will make my world'." Songfic to Vocaloid's "Alice of Human Sacrifice". Not much I can really say. Need genre help .


**Author's Note:** This _is _a songfic. The song is called Alice of Human Sacrifice, by Vocaloid. If anyone wonders why the lyrics don't seem to rhyme in the slightest, that's because the real song is in Japanese. I took the translation from videos I saw of the song.  
It's a songfic because I can't draw well enough to make a video in the Vocaloid style. If I could, I would, but I can't, so... I'm sticking with the songfic.  
Link to Song: **http:// www. youtube. com/ user/ SilverDragoneye #p/a/DA0E111440CB82D5/1/j6MltGHO-lE **[Remove the spaces and you're set]. I reccomend reading this with Alice of Human Sacrifice playing, because... Well, it seems most captivating when I hear the words, myself.  
Rated "T" for: Chatacter death, blood, and madness.  
Beta-ed by elepaio.

* * *

_There was once a little dream.  
__No one knows who had dreamt it.  
__It was really such a small dream.  
__This made the little dream think...  
__"I don't want to disappear."  
__"How can I make people dream me?"  
__The little dream thought...  
__And at last, it had an idea.  
__"I will make people come to me,  
__And they will make my world."_

Scarlet eyes roamed around, a smirk on pale lips.

_The first Alice was a gallant red one_.  
_Wielding a sword in hand in the wonderland_.

Prussia grinned at the world, feeling its power. Such power. So addicting. He would rule all of this, soon. All of it. Everyone he has fought, so far, has fallen before him. It was wonderful, needing. And he would pay attention to it. Once they were all with him, together with him, helping him and only him, only then - Yes, only then would he quiet the song that rang loudly in his head.

Pounding, pounding, it called to him. _More_, it demanded, _more_. What was this song? Power, one could call it. Prussia was a great empire, and he knew it.

He walked alone, alone but strong, very strong, through what had been a battlefield. No one had cleaned yet. From his sword, deep scarlet drops fell to the ground. Blood. Poland's blood.

Poland. More land, more wealth, more power. The song rang louder and louder and louder, commanding Prussia's body and mind. It begged him, or rather, he begged it, for more and more. Sacrifice. Yes, sacrifice.

_Slicing down everything in her way,  
__She was followed by a bloody red path._

He has a brother. Germany. His dear younger brother, with gold-blond hair and bright eyes. Already his.

With a care that no one else had seen, Prussia smiled over at Germany. A real smile, a smile that rang with the taste of being truthful. Even the song quieted for his brother. The song did not demand blood and sacrifice from his brother, not like the others. He knew the others waited, waited for him to become weak and fall.

His brother would never betray him. He had raised him thus.

_This new Alice, deep in the woods..._

Years went by, and Germany became stronger and stronger. Prussia always smiled at him, took care with him, was gentle with him, but raised him strong.

Years went by, and Prussia stopped taking more and more land. The song was quieter now, having taken most of what it needs. It doesn't howl for more and more and more.

And one day, Germany led him away by the hand. He was strong now, sculpted, taller than Prussia and much more dignified. He doesn't listen, nor does he bow, to the song. Prussia feels disappointed, slightly, in his younger brother. The song was his life, so why does the other part of his life ignore it?

It was later, much later, when Germany suddenly took Prussia away by the hand. Prussia was surprised, but complied with being tugged away by Germany.

Farther and farther away they went, deep into trees and wilderness, where no one could hear or interrupt them. Prussia thought it all quite amusing, to be commanded like this by his younger brother.

Very amusing. Very amusing – Until the rope appeared from nowhere, binding Prussia's wrists behind his back.

_Was trapped as a wanted criminal._

With a sudden roar, the song screamed in his head, shouting and clawing at his skull. Take him, it cried in anger and anguish, take him before it's too late! You are the Prussian empire!

Germany paid no heed to the thrashing body as he continued to strap him down and together, strap him until he could move no more.

Only then, when Prussia was subdued under his foot, that Germany pulled away to remove papers – Papers?! – from his breast. Documents.

In a quiet voice that was soft with the dissonance of betrayal, Germany read aloud. Only a few words caught Prussia's ear through the crashing bass of the song, through the roaring of blood, through the shrill chimes that were the commands.

"… in order to lock away the Prussian empire… Prussian empire… dissolved… under German control…"

_If it weren't for the red path she'd made,_

Suddenly, powerless, Prussia began to laugh. He laughed and laughed, the notes slipping from his mouth in a tumult of everything and nothing.

"Dissolved?!" He shouted, hysterical with laugher. "You think I will disappear, Germany?" It had never been Germany. Always "Ludwig." Never "Germany."

"I will never vanish. I will never, ever disappear!!" Prussia shouted, the song driving him on to screech and laugh. What he said is what the song said, ringing and pounding in his head, again and again and again. "I am the Prussian Empire! I am _Prussia_!"

"I will never be forgotten!"

_No one would think she'd ever existed._

* * *

Fingers skipped over keys, pale and thin fingers over strong ivory keys.

_The second Alice was a fragile blue one.  
__He sang to the world in the Wonderland._

Austria hated to fight. His life was the music, the enchanting tunes, the consuming, passionate song. Once, he had written down the music. Once. Not anymore, not now. It comes too fast to be written, simply demanding to be played until the world ends. It swirls around him in a frenzy, soothing his soul to a lull at the same time that it burns, driving him to play and continue playing until his fingers bled, and then to play more and more.

No one would believe Austria about the tantalizing song, not a single one. To them, the song was nothing but a myth that they joked about, a myth that was simply Austria's desire to play. It was more than that, much more. An incentive doesn't stab and twist at hearts, forcing one to work the keys.

People listened to his melodies, but most would stop him with a small plea: "Stop, it's enough, you'll never remember this all. Write it down, compose it, edit and revise…"

Only Prussia, trapped with no power and no reason, believed in the songs. He knew of the songs, how they controlled you. But then again, Prussia… Prussia is mad. Austria wonders as well, is he mad, too? But then the song slams to the forefront of his mind and he ignores the question.

The melodies continue to ring throughout the house, over the lawns. They were the song in his head, the driving song, that song that no one could ignore. Heart and soul, heart and soul.

_Filling religions with so many false-created notes,  
__They were of a crazy blue world._

His song, although undulating with a passion few could feel or understand, captivated whomever heard it, leading them astray and to his house. There they would stay now, listening to the music. Austria smiled while he played, pleased that they were calming down, finally listening to something other than war drums.

Hungary was the first to come, her rapt attention all that he felt. She wasn't there to him at all.

Then Prussia came to his door, adding a few words to the melody. Then France, allured by the seductive passion. Then Germany, simply from being close, then Italy after Germany. Then Liechtenstein, betraying her brother to follow the beautiful sounds that rang all the way over to their house.

Switzerland was the last to fall prey to the melody. And only because he needed to save his sister from the music, the music which he heard as dreadful and dissonant.

"Stop it!" Switzerland screamed, attempting to cover his ears and Liechtenstein's both. "Stop playing, stop that horrible noise, stop it!"

_This new Alice was one of a rose_.

Austria couldn't hear him. The song howled in his head, the music rushed and pounded through his veins, the beats coming and going with his pulse. Music, melody, song, cries in his body. In his blood.

"Stop it, stop it, _stop it!_" Switzerland's voice turned shrill and panicked, the melody piercing his heart. Pain stabbed at the nation as he pulled away from the song, pain in his head and his ears and his soul. No more, no more, so many times he's heard the song, he can't – No more!

Austria didn't stop. He was lost to the song, the song that had taken his heard. He had already played for days on end, never tiring. He hadn't stopped yet, even while his fingers bled and cracked with soreness and strain.

And so, with the song that no one else would resist, Switzerland was trapped to Austria. Trapped and writhing, all in his mind as his body would no longer move. Numbed by music, numbed to fall to the ground and pant.

Plink, plink, go the keys, and the notes spill like water from the piano.

To Switzerland's eyes, red water. Blood. But not blood? Confusing. But truth.

The images trapped themselves into Switzerland's mind, turning it over and twisting it around and toying with it. He could not fight, he could only wait. That is, until the song broke his mind. The notes, jarring and strange, hurt. They shattered the mind with a force unknown, spreading the pieces to the wind and leaving nothing but a shell.

The gun was silent, still, and unfeeling as it was raised. The aim was surprisingly unwavering.

**BANG**.

_He was shot and killed by a Mad Man_.

The last note of the song hung in the air, unfailing, the loudest of all. Austria hadn't noticed it grow in tune. Maybe if he had…

In a beautiful motion, Austria's back arched into a bow, fingers locked and scrabbling on the keys of bone. Blood soaked the air and stained ivory keys, leaving flowery pools on the floor and on the wood. Exquisite.

Switerland's aim had been true, the frenzied nation having hit his once-ally between the eyes. He stood, panting, green eyes shining bright with need and fright. Fear.

But there was nothing to fear now. The melody was turning away, the notes fading, the weak and pale body falling to the side to hit the bench, the eyes closing over violet orbs that seem to be crying scarlet. Plish-plish, these strange tears hit the ground, rippling the pools below and spreading them out.

_It left a flower blooming silently red_,

Silence fell, a quiet silence that no one noticed. Even Switzerland's heaving breaths had quieted, faded, into there was no more.

Gone.

The music was gone.

But no one moved. No one stirred.

Still trapped.

Switzerland sighed, finally moving. The only one moving. He didn't seem to see the broken body, simply turning around to grasp his captivated little sister. It was done. Time to go home.

Together, one almost falling back to the floor, they left without a backwards glance. They were the only ones to do so.

_The one who was loved was now forgotten_.

* * *

The dark dress caressed and accented milky-pale smooth skin, showing off the beauty of the lady it enveloped.

_The third Alice was a lovely green one  
__All beauty and grace in the Wonderland_

Belarus smiled, looking around with a great pleasure. She really was beautiful, as she was always told. The thousand mirrors around her reflected her gentle, pristine figure. The one at her feet murmured the words she had come to live on, words that filled her mind with a gentle grace.

And, well, hum-hum. Music in her ears told her. Music in her head. She hummed along, mind blank of anything bad that could possibly happen. Bliss.

You're beautiful, the song says. You're beautiful – so you can do whatever you want. You are everything. You are the world. You are lovely and you are beautiful.

Belarus smoothed down her skirt, deadly knife shining in her grasp. Whatever she wanted. Yes, she could do whatever she wanted. She could have whatever she wanted. They all gave it to her. Everything.

Hmm. What does she want now?

The song was a complacent murmur in her head, telling her. Attention. Ah, yes, of course! Attention and lovers, yes, that's it. More and more and more.

The sound of agreement rang in her ears, a chiming hum that encouraged her desire. Hum-hum. More, more.

Her eyes, deep navy blue, were drawn over to the man that stood slightly to the side of her, eyes cast aside. Worried. She felt reverie from him. Yes, of course. Of course it's like that. Hum-hum. She's beautiful.

"Down, down, Поклон, on your knees!" Unnaturally happy, overenthusiastic. The song pleased her so much, so gentle, so kind and trustworthy.

_She charmed people to her every beck and call  
__She had made a strange green country_

Lithuania bowed to his mistress, one knee on the ground, eyes downcast yet filled with love. Love and lust for his mistress.

Beautiful, beautiful.

Belarus held her leg out, pointing her bare foot into an arrow. She smiled again, licking the flat side of the knife. Hum-hum. The music was a happy lull, hum-hum. Pleased with the world, content. Of course. They have all they want, she and the song.

"Lovely. Beautiful." Lithuania murmured, lifting his head. His fingers lightly – hesitantly – moving to her smooth calf. Just as she wanted. She always gets what she wants. "Beautiful goddess." He pressed his lips to her foot, tentative. Scared. She was so very higher than him.

Beautiful, beautiful, you're beautiful, beautiful goddess. Nothing she hadn't heart and hundred, or a thousand, or a million or more times. The song told her. It always reassured her, she's beautiful. Lovely. Better than all of them.

Belarus withheld the desire to smirk. Yes, much better. Better than any man, any man she had ever seen. But he – Lithuania – was still all she had right now. He could worship her. She'd let him. She wants attention, anyway. So she'll get it.

He was most devoted to her. He never thought of leaving. How could he leave the goddess? He kissed up her leg, eyes locked on hers. He couldn't bear to look away. He stopped short of the laced hem of her dark blue dress. Unworthy to venture higher. This is all he could do. Too beautiful. Too lovely.

Belarus looked down with lidded eyes. This was enough. They were unworthy of more of her, all of them. Even Lithuania – devoted body and soul to her – wasn't enough. Not what she wanted. She wants more. Not them.

Slowly, she pulled her leg away. Her foot slid into a dark, proffered slipper as she stood. Her silver-blond-silk hair fell down her back, teasing, beautiful. She walked off, to breathe. She felt a sapphire stare behind her, a stare of unconditional devotion.

_This new Alice was Wonderland's queen_

The song trills, beautiful, beautiful, soothing her mind. Of course. Beautiful goddess. Of course you can do whatever you want. You're better than all of them. Much better. Hum-hum. So take it all. All of it. All you want.

She went outside, sitting on the balcony rail to better see her land. Knife clutched to her breast, she looked over the snow-scattered ground. Snow fell onto scarlet roses, onto deep blue violets.

Hers, all hers, more than theirs. Only hers. You can do anything. Anything.

How pretty, Belarus mused, overlooking the ground. That blend of white on blue, red on white. Lovely.

Lovely…

A stab of jealousy, a spire of anger. Lovely. Lovelier than her. How dare…? She looked down at herself, white lace on deep dark blue. Missing red. If she had that red, then she would be just as wonderful. Yes… Red, deep red, drowning red.

Beautiful, you're beautiful, always beautiful, they adore you. You can do whatever you want.

_Overtaken by a twisted dream._

She walked back, caressing the blade to her face like a precious gem. It was silver, and cool against warm-pale skin.

"Stand up!" She said with a slight purr, akin to the music, looking down at Lithuania's stooped form. "And come here…" Low, seductive.

He stood, obeying his mistress. Blue eyes slid over her body, lingering for a second before moving on. Lovely.

"Come here." Still seductive. He took a step, unsure. Mistress… "Faster. I cannot wait." A whisper. Hum, hum. Music.

Singing music. More and more, louder and louder. It cannot – No, she cannot wait. Now. Beautiful. Now. With an unmatched grace, her body slid forward, arm outstretched. A noise, a dark noise of sinking. A flick, upwards, and then – then? – pearls. Crimson pearls, falling down as rain. In the air.

Beautiful, beautiful…

Belarus, smiling as lovely as ever, whipped the drops that lingered on the blade onto her apron as Lithuania crumpled. She lowered herself soon after, desperate fingers swiping at blood on the floor, spreading it over her apron and bow, over her face and on her breast. Deep red on the purest white.

"Beautiful goddess…" His last words, choked out, a plea but not quite. Wanting. And then he was gone.

"Of course." Belarus smiled, standing, hair falling over her shoulders. Hum, hum, beautiful, beautiful. Such a wonderful song. Contentment.

Then she laughed, a noise laced with the burning, soothing melody in her breast. "Of course, of course! Ah, Goddess, forever!"

_She would forever rule her country._

* * *

_During this, two children went into the woods_.

Hand in hand, the twins laughed, running through their adventure with an unmatched amusement.

_They had a tea party under rose trees_.

"How quaint." A soft, female voice. "How cute."

_An invitation from the castle for them was_

"I must have that 'cute'."

_The trump card of hearts!_

* * *

Laughter rang in the air, sincere and exited laughter at all of the New!

_The fourth Alice was a pair of siblings  
__Driven by curiosity in the Wonderland_

America led his brother by the hand, grinning and pulling Canada through the crowded trees, laughing and laughing and laughing some more. So much fun, so much fun! To explore, to laugh, to dream! The best fun, the most exiting fun there is in the world. So much fun!

"No, not that way!" Canada protested, pulling to the side. "Over here!" He would rather, much rather, go through the thinning trees into the yellow, giggling yellow he saw farther off. Bright, laughing yellow. Not the darker tones that were that way, through the red arch. Yellow seems so much more enjoyable.

"But this way's more exiting! You can't honestly say you're not curious."

America won. He always did. Canada didn't mind, though. It was okay. Besides, he was right. Curiosity rang in his mind at the sheer thought of passing through the gate, of seeing all the different, strange things. What could lie out there?

"Race you through!" And then America was gone, a blur through trees and the arch.

"No fair, no fair!"

They ran from the yellow-bright, over dark green grass to white-dark stone. Stained stone. Stained stone, becoming grey and white and brown again by their ringing, echoing mirth – grey and white and brown, not the red it had been.

_Going through many different doors_

They didn't notice, however. Too much fun! So many things to see and look at, why would they notice? Their minds were free of song, free of melody. The only tune in their heads were the innocent ringing of glee, of merriment. Childish, yes, but they are fourteen. So they play.

Weaving through dark blue fenceposts now, they raced over cobblestones and under branches, through an abandoned courtyard. The haunting touch of melody was lost to their giggles, the home seemed to breathe again.

And then, at a deep green royal gate, they fell to the ground. Tired but happy, tired but happy. Always happy. As long as they play…

"I'm thirsty." Simple enough. "We'll just have a tea party!"

Under rose trees, blooming a flaming red, and under hanging violets, a beautiful dark blue, past the green gate, they sat on the fallen petals. Perfect place. Happiness. Each held a cup, each held a cookie, both smiling. To live in the "Now." Exiting.

Tch, tech. Rustling. They turned, slowly, interested. Hearing a voice, female, soft, melodious. "How quaint." A pause. "How cute."

A woman, silk-silver hair accented by a dark bow on her head, walked into view with a sliding, calculated grace. Her hand reached out – pale, delicate – as she hummed quietly. Within the hand was a fancily backed Ace of Hearts, decorated by red drops and petals.

"You're invited to my home." The woman whispered, smiling, gentle. Her voice carried the hum of amusement. "Come. We'll have… Fun."

_They just simply ended up here._

Fun?

They stood up, hand in hand, dual blue eyes bright with excitement. Canada reached out to receive the card, smiling with a beauty only an innocent could hold. Innocence, curiosity…

"Lead on!"

They followed the dark-clad beautiful woman, up the rose-smattered garden. They looked around excitedly, pointing things out to each other, not noticing they woman's slightly cold glances. Envy. What's that? They don't know. Envy isn't fun. Why would they bother themselves with it?

Up grand stairs, tap-tap-tap, holding each other close enough for golden-blonde hair to touch. The woman hadn't said anything yet, simply bringing them higher and higher. There's nothing new here…

"She's nice…" Canada whispered, looking around, unsure. "But can we… go?"

"Not yet, it's still interesting." Childish pleasures.

"Hum-hum." A tune floated from the lady in front of them. It was a pretty melody, but at the same time… Well…

"Okay." America turned around without words to the woman. She wasn't paying attention to them, anyway, this lovely woman in the dark blue dress. "We'll go back to see the yellow gold."

Down stairs again, quiet, hands linked and hair bouncing. Faster, faster! To the yellow-gold, to play, to romp, to laugh and have fun!

Back through the green gate, they didn't hear the cry from behind them. Back through the blue fenceposts, back through the red arch. Together, they ran into the yellow-gold, giggling and pushing the other out of the way. New! What could be in this New?!

_The stubborn older sister_

Hurry up! The command was unspoken, a laugh that was thrown with bright eyes. America was first, all but dragging his brother into the field, panting and falling and laughing, laughing.

_The smart younger brother_

Canada smiled, attempting to keep up with his other half. Then they tumbled, falling over each other, into the bright field of yellow-gold, the bright field of sunflowers.

_They were the closest to_

Tall sunflowers, almost over their heads, hiding them from sight. But still, they ran around each other, pushing and smiling and pulling and playing tag and forgetting who's it and falling and racing and laughing – Laughing, laughing, laughing!

The field rang with it, with the glee, musical and chiming and innocent and oh, pure! No song, simple notes, a million chimes, a piano left to its own.

And then they ran into a silver-haired man, a violet-eyed man, who wore a scarf and a beige coat. Strange man, safe man.

"Oh!" He exclaimed, eyes bright, arms filled with sunflowers. He smiled down at the twins, face purely joyous innocence. Two hands stretched out, the sunflowers falling, the hands looking so inviting, so helpful. Ah, New!

_Alice's Wonderland!_

"You'll stay with Russia… da?"

* * *

_Tch, tch._

An eerie gleam in the mirthful flowers.

_Tch, tch_.

An angered glare of deep navy eyes.

_Tch, tch_.

A smile, possessed by a need greater than anything known.

_Tch, tch_.

A shocked gasp, a sudden rush. A gleam of falling silver. A shower of scarlet tears, a scream. More tears.

_Tch, tch_.

A whisper, for only their ears. "This is my paradise."

_**BANG**_.

* * *

_They never awoke from their deep dreaming_

Russia looked on, unknowing, surprised, as the twins fell before them, their golden locks stained by… by what? It was red, deep red, and it continued to spread around them.

He smiled, almost sadly, almost knowing, as he bent over to grab the hands of the two small bodies.

Before him, the queen sighed in pleasure, silver blade dripping red. Her eyes, large and truthful, turned to him. He didn't notice. She whimpered for a second, wondering. Was he about to disappear from her?

He picked up the boys, sitting the two red-stained limp forms on his shoulders. He smiled again, looking up at the pair's lidded eyes, whispering in a stone-still silence.

"You'll stay with Russia, da?" Words said happily, turned sorrowful to some eyes only by circumstance. "Stay with Russia."

And he walked off, further into the yellow-gold, pretty gold. Warmth, welcoming…

_Forever they wandered the Wonderland_.

* * *

**Author's Note in Hindsight:** This has eaten my brain. I keep thinking about this... And it's not uncommon to hear me go around chanting "Hetalia of Human Sacrifice" under my breath like a lunatic now.

Under suggestion of my awesome beta (Who is over a thousand times better than I am at writing), I may try to make a second of this. Without the song, but it'll be attached to it. That'll most likely keep me busy and away from madness (As I am prone to enter a state of madness when without anything to write or draw).

Oh, and this is who each person in the story was supposed to be... Just in case. Just the important ones.

**Prussia:** The first Alice (Meiko of Vocaloid)  
**Austria**: The second Alice (Kaito of Vocaloid)  
**Switzerland:** The Mad Man (In Alice in Wonderland, most likely the Mad Hatter)  
**Belarus:** The third Alice (Miku of Vocaloid)  
**America:** Part of the Fourth Alice (Rin of Vocaloid)  
**Canada:** Part of the Fourth Alice (Len of Vocaloid)  
**Russia:** The dream, Alice's Wonderland


End file.
